


To Prove His Worth

by ChristineThalassinou1990



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Backstory, Burglary, Gen, Headcanon, Mercer Is Bad At Lockpicking, Pre-Thieves Guild Questline, Thieves Guild, Young Mercer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:34:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27110542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChristineThalassinou1990/pseuds/ChristineThalassinou1990
Summary: How Mercer got Chillrend?My take on it.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	To Prove His Worth

**Author's Note:**

> Because we're provided with exactly zero information about how Mercer Frey acquired that sword - or about Mercer himself, for that matter - I had to come up with the story myself, and this is my headcanon from now on.

Mercer Frey shifted uncomfortably on the rooftop he was crouching on, trying to ease the stiffness in his muscles. From his elevated hiding spot, he had a perfect view of the Solitude blacksmith's outdoor workplace and his little shop as well; he was interested in the latter. Word was that the blacksmith acquired a unique, extremely valuable glass sword not long ago, which he planned to give to the Jarl as a token of his respect. Mercer was absolutely convinced that the sword would have a much better place with him. And if it was as valuable as the rumours claimed, getting his hands on it would've definitely been beneficial for his reputation in the Thieves Guild.

Despite practically growing up in the Guild – he lived with them since the death of his parents not much before his twelfth birthday –, he couldn't really show up too much at almost thirty. He didn't steal from Jarls and other important political figures, he didn't go on very dangerous heists that yielded more treasure than he'd ever seen combined. He was just one average thief of the many, nameless and faceless for everyone outside the Guild; and to an extent, inside the Guild as well.

Mercer didn't have too many friends even in his de facto family. There was Brynjolf, the always cheery and positive Nord redhead who always had a good word or two for him, and Delvin Mallory, but Mercer had a feeling that Delvin was kind to him for the sole reason that they both were Bretons, and he thought they should stick together. The others tolerated him but no one was particularly nice to him. Maybe if he proved to them that he in fact was very good at the thieving business, they'd warm up to him just a little bit... But for that, he had to get the sword.

Night had fallen at least an hour ago when the blacksmith finally locked the shop and began walking home. Mercer expected him to have a small room in the shop and that's all, but it seemed that in Solitude, everyone had huge, elegant manors and mansions; he even played with the idea of doing some good old burglary as well, after getting the sword.

 _It's just better for me_ , he thought as he rose carefully, still balancing in a crouched position. He waited for the numbness in his legs to ease up before taking a few steps backward to create enough space for a 'run-and-jump' stunt. The blacksmith's shop and workplace was in the turn of the ramp leading up to Castle Dour. That meant that he was more or less on the same level so the jump he had to make wasn't a particularly risky one, but the Imperials were uncomfortably close if anything were to go wrong. Although, Mercer was sure he could pull this off. The blacksmith was gone, there was nobody in the near vicinity, he'd just go in, steal the sword, get out. Piece of sweetroll.

He took a deep breath then sprinted and made the jump. He landed gracefully on his feet then rolled once with his momentum before standing up. He quickly looked around: still no one to see. Good. Mercer sneaked to the shop's door and began picking the lock. It wasn't a too hard one to pick, still, it took almost a minute for him; lockpicking wasn't his strongest asset, to put it nicely. However, in sneaking, magic using and swordfight, he was near the top in the Guild; being a Breton certainly had its perks.

Mercer was the kind of Breton who couldn't deny his elf heritage: he was slender and exceptionally light on his feet, both came in handy more than once. His features were a bit sharper than a pureblood human's, and his almond-shaped eyes were a sign of a distant elf ancestor as well. At least his ears weren't pointy; that would've been so embarrassing. A somewhat less obvious result of his Breton blood was his magical affinity: he could use basic spells with ease, and even the more adept ones weren't much of a problem for him; however, he'd never got further than that, and he had no intention to do so, either. Reaching that much of a control over his magic was hard enough in itself, he wasn't interested in more struggles with it.

When the lock finally opened, he quietly sneaked inside, carefully closing the door behind himself. The small sconces on the walls gave only enough light for Mercer not to stumble completely blind, so to improve the visual conditions he activated a candlelight spell. The shutters on the windows were closed, so there was an extremely low chance that someone could see the spell from the outside.

Looking around he saw a counter and many, many weapon racks with swords, maces, warhammers and even quarterstaffs. There were a few mannequins as well, armour-pieces and helmets put on them on display. Leather and iron shields were placed in the far corner of the room, but Mercer didn't give a damn about them. As a thief, he knew that the people tended to hide their most prized values in secret rooms and compartments, and he really didn't want to search for the blacksmith's house and break in, so he hoped that he'd find that secret compartment, and the sword, here, in the shop.

The shop had one big room only, but when Mercer examined it methodically, in the very end of it, he found a trapdoor.

"Gotcha!" he breathed as he picked the lock; it was much harder than the one on the shop's door, and it definitely signalled the presence of something valuable.

He was on the good track.

"Open up, dammit!" he hissed when he managed to break a third lockpick.

Two more lockpicks later he was finally successful, the trapdoor opened, and Mercer jumped down into the basement. The candlelight spell followed him, providing the only source of light in the small room. Mercer saw sacks, piles of pelts and leathers, and various kinds of ingot, but the thing instantly grabbed his attention was the display case at the other end of the basement. He walked to it, and a smile spread on his face when he saw the prize he came for: a beautiful one-handed glass sword, not even in the usual green hue but blue. Mercer had never seen a blue glass weapon before, and it made him even more curious.

The lock on the display case was even worse than the one on the trapdoor. Mercer actually ran out of his lockpicks in his attempts to get it open; thieves usually avoided leaving destruction behind themselves, it was bad for the business, and Mercer tried his best to abide by this rule. Fortunately, his last lockpick got the damn thing open.

When he took the sword into his hand, he instantly felt the magic coursing through it, a powerful enchantment without a doubt. In a split second, he decided to keep the blade for himself rather than selling it, as he was planning before.

"Chillrend..." he muttered when he noticed the carved text on the crossguard. "It fits you quite well, little beauty."

He found the scabbard, too, in the display case, he grabbed it and sheathed the blade. It felt comfortable in his hand, it was light, its balance perfect. Mercer was sure that he could put this sword to very good use.

Smiling quietly all the way, he left the shop, and twenty minutes later, he was on his way back to Riften. Chillrend hung on his hip but his cloak hid it from the prying eyes. The blacksmith would notice his loss in the morning the soonest; he had more than enough time to get as far from Solitude as possible.

When he arrived back to Riften and his Guild mates began noticing his newest toy, the rumours of how he got it spread faster than wildfire; and indeed, soon enough, Tonilia of all people asked him out on a date.

**The End**


End file.
